


Raw Ingredients

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: Rooted [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how the day goes. A breath in, a breath out, a thousand human necessities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raw Ingredients

They made their way through the world, half-explorers, half-road weary travelers. Meg preferred staying close to the base she had made, going for long drives on her own when the tethering started to chafe. Sometimes Castiel would slide in alongside Dean in the front seat of the Impala, tracking down the things that lived in the dark. He always came back, hair wind tousled and dark circles under his eyes. She wouldn’t nurse him, refused such maternal fussiness, but she was a little softer with him for a few days. Less inclined to set fingernails and teeth against delicate skin. 

He liked coming home more than leaving. The last such outing was weeks in the rearview mirror. Eventually it would grow too distant to remember properly turning to faded photo memory of his other life. He would leave again then, taking Dean's call. For now though, the day to day, breath to breath, of an ordinary human life. 

“Why are there so many kinds of toothpaste?” He asked, the florescent lights of Walgreens burning his eyes. 

Between their work schedules, they often wound up doing necessary chores at strange hours. Castiel preferred it, having developed a dislike for crowds. Meg held a red basket loosely, items already overflowing the rim. Her hair was held back in messy ponytail, the mint green of her scrubs making her pale. Castiel thought she looked beautiful just then, but he held the compliment between his teeth, unsure of its reception. 

“So people think they’re buying something that’ll save them from the dentist.” She plucked out a blue and white package from the wall of boxes. “You like the taste of this one.” 

“Do I?” 

“Well. I do anyway and you’ve always used it without bitching.” She shrugged one shoulder. “What else?” 

“Mascara.” He checked over the list. “Q-tips. Tampons. Advil.” 

“How are we out of Advil already?” She moved over to the next aisle, not checking to see if he followed. 

“You’ve had a lot of headaches and I twisted my ankle last month.” 

“Right.” She picked up the store brand, compared it to the official bottle. “Do you think there’s a difference?” 

They stared in mute confusion at the matching labels. She was a nurse and probably knew the answer, but sometimes it was the details that tripped them over and reminded them of how titanically the earth had shifted beneath their feet. 

“I believe they are the same.” He announced with surety once saved for heavenly declarations. 

“Yeah, probably just brand advertising.” The bottle dropped into the basket, rattling among a bag of chips, a quart of milk and a box of cereal to get them through breakfast until they could go food shopping properly. 

They were checked out by an exhausted young man, his hair falling limply over his eyes. Castiel counted out exact change, handing it over with a light smile. There was no right way to help any more, no easy casting out of healing or guidance that would be accepted. There were only small gestures between humans, sometimes barely appreciated that he’d learned: exact change, a real smile, a light compliment. 

“Have a good night.” The boy brushed the hair back from his eyes. They were red rimmed. Drugs or fatigue? Castiel couldn’t tell, wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“You too.” He followed Meg through the automatic doors into the night’s silence. It was the end of summer, autumn starting to elbow into the balm. 

They drove home with the windows down, music whispering through the radio. He rested his arm on the door and closed his eyes. Flying had become a distant memory, a cherished past rubbed tender with nostalgia. The wind in his hair from a rolled down window was a barely acceptable placebo against the ache of missing it. 

They arrived back to the condo in a bustle of bags and soft steps on the carpet. The neighbors were long ago tucked safe in their beds, oblivious to such late night happenings. Meg settled the bags on the kitchen table, sorting through them with a slump to her shoulders. 

“Go to bed. I can do it.” He took the bottle of Advil from her hand. 

“I’m fine.” She met his eyes with ferocity. 

“I know, but let me anyway.” 

She released her grip, letting the bottle clatter into his waiting palm. 

“Martyr.” She accused even as she kissed him. 

It was nice to set things into their place. He liked removing the bag of cereal from the box to fill the plastic container that kept the tiny marshmallows and mixed grains fresh. There were traces of the erstwhile roommate, half-full coffee tins and whole wheat bread with the twist tie missing. Nick was a pleasant enough companion, an uncomplicated friend for Castiel in his new world full of multilayered relationships. Patting the bread companionably, he replaced the cereal beside it. 

Assured that all was where it needed to be, he drifted to the bathroom and went about the rituals of cleaning. The toothpaste, new and full, wasn’t bad. Maybe he did like it. He really couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Apathy was apparently part of humanity as well as the angelic choir. It was curious to find such overlap. He thought about that while he brushed his teeth and tongue, ridding himself of bacteria he’d once marveled over. 

When he entered their bedroom, she was still awake propped up on pillows with a book open on her knees. He shucked off his clothes and climbed in beside her. Experimentation had proved that he preferred to sleep in his underwear, rewarded for his partial nudity by her fingers tripping down his spine. 

“Any good?” He yawned, arching into the touch. 

“It’s terrible. Becky picked it.” She cracked the book’s spine, ignoring his protest, and set it beside the alarm clock. “She loves all this pity porn bullshit.” 

“Is it actually pornographic?” 

“That would be too interesting.” 

The lamp clicked off, darkness settling around them. She rested on her side, hand on at the small of his back as he lay on his stomach. Heat gathered slowly under the covers, the mingling of their animal flesh. 

“Busy day tomorrow?” He nosed across the pillow until their faces were inches apart. 

“No. Just a normal shift. You?” 

“I’m training a new employee.” 

“Look at you, climbing up the corporate ladder.” 

“I am very ambitious.” He said dryly, turning to tangle their legs together. 

They stayed close in their sleep. He liked waking up with her hair in his nose and the sharp point of her hip resting under his hand. Meg always seemed a little disgusted as if she’d been duped into such easy intimacy, but she made no move to part from him when they both dragged themselves back to the land of the living. He kissed the soft skin on the back of her neck. 

“Go make me breakfast.” She groaned, burying her face in her pillow. 

So he got up and made coffee, poured cereal out and carried it to her on a tray. She blinked at him when he came in. 

“Oh.” She accepted the tray with a confused smile. “Thanks.” 

“It’s early.” He shrugged. 

They drank their coffee with cartoons dancing by them. Meg had a certain affection for them that Castiel found contagious. He’d gone so far to buy a few graphic t-shirts, adding them to his slowly growing wardrobe. The last time he’d worn a Teen Titans t-shirt on a hunt, Dean had teased him and then asked where he'd gotten it with an avaricious gleam in his eyes. 

“Bowling tonight.” She reminded him, tying back her hair. 

“Right.” 

He kissed her on the cheek before he left, the smell of her makeup lingering in his nose as walked the brisk half-dozen blocks to work. The buzz of retail swarmed around him for hours. It was comforting, the routine of customers and co-workers with their spikes of irrational emotion and gossip. All of their noise was song he was still learning to sing, humming along quietly when he lost track of the words. 

His new employee, a bespectacled seventeen year old who held a clipboard like a shield and went by the unlikely moniker of Nails, trailed him most of the day. 

“You have a good day,” Castiel told a harried mother, her children a raucous herd at her feet. 

“Thank you,” she flashed him a smile. 

“That’s weird,” said Nails. 

“What is?” 

“You actually mean it when you say it. The whole have a nice day thing.” 

“Of course I do,” the cash register beeped contently as he slid the drawer back into place. 

“Are you like...religious or something?” 

“Or something.” Castiel agreed. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can eat your lunch.” 

Nails as it turned out, hadn’t brought lunch or remembered to bring cash with him. Castiel took him to Subway and they ate their footlongs on a bench outside. They didn’t say much. Nails ate with single minded intensity that Castiel recognized all too well.

Back in the store, Dan, a bulky cashier stopped Castiel with a hissed, 

“Hey.” 

“Yes?” Castiel stopped short. 

“Did you figure it out yet?” 

“Figure out what?” Castiel put his hands in his pockets. It was a new mannerism that he was trying out. 

“What the hell is that new kid? Boy? Girl? I swear, I can’t tell with these young ones these days.” 

Castiel glanced over to where Nails had started back in on the display they’d been stacking up earlier that morning. Nails’ shoulders had gone tense, a clear indicator that the conversation was audible. Now that Castiel was paying attention, he could see where there could be some confusion on the matter. Nails dressed in the androgynous uniform of blue shirt and khaki pants, long dark hair falling over a slim sharp face that gave nothing away. 

“I haven’t asked.” 

“You shouldn’t have to ask.” Dan shook his head. “You should just know, you know?” 

“Why?” Castiel studied him. 

“Well...fuck. Never mind. I can’t think when you look at me like that,” Dan snorted. “Just let me know when you figure it out.” 

Dan stalked off before Castiel could assert that he would do no such thing. Instead, he was left to return to Nails’ side and continue their stacking. 

“Sorry.” Nails said quietly. 

“Why?” 

“I thought you were weird, but you’re pretty cool actually.” 

“I’ve been assured that is possible to be both weird and cool.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Afternoon was spent on inventory. Castiel was the only employee that actually liked doing inventory and it had become a permanent assignment. When he told Meg about it, she’d given him one of her softer looks. _We counted tiles once,_ she said _do you remember?_

He did remember. They had sat on his cot in a white room and the numbers eased his troubled mind, turning it from a turbulent ocean to smooth surface. Maybe that was liked inventory, the sorting and putting into place and accounting. 

“You did well,” Castiel told Nails as they clocked out. “Arrive promptly again tomorrow. it's important to start the day on the right foot.” 

“Uh huh,” Nails grinned, "you got it, boss." 

"I'm not your boss!" Castiel called out after Nails'. He got a lazy wave of acknowledgement in return. 

"Night, boss!" 

"Infuriating." Castiel mumbled. 

"That's teenagers for you," one of the other cashiers laughed, clapping him on the back. "Take it as a compliment." 

Meg was already waiting outback when Castiel got outside. Her car rumbled as he sank into the passenger seat. There was a bag of McDonald’s on the dash, five burgers neatly stacked and a large fry. She put the car into gear as he unwrapped the first burger, handing it to her. She ate it with one hand, throwing the car into gear with the other. 

The bowling alley was a disgusting smoky place, but Nick lit up like a neon sign when he saw them come in. It wasn’t a league night, just the three of them throwing heavy balls down the slicked alley. Meg and Nick talked about the nuances of a television show while Castiel perfected his technique. He was better than either of them, patient and calm in his delivery. When Meg finally got around to taking her turn, Nick handed Castiel his beer. 

“I met someone. A few weeks ago. We're dating,” Nick rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, "I think."

“That’s good.” 

“Is it? There’s a lot of things that I can’t tell her. A lot I can’t explain.” 

“Isn’t there always?” Castiel picked at the label, “Humans seem to spend most of their lives trying to explain themselves to other people.” 

“Do we?” Nick frowned, staring down at the floor. “That’s...sort of depressing.” 

“I don’t know. I think it’s fascinating. The need to socialize, to be understood...it’s a good sort of yearning,” Castiel watched Meg get a split, heard her sibilant swear, “the need to connect makes us stronger.” 

“That’s the first time I ever heard you say ‘us’.” Nick raised an eyebrow. It was disconcertingly Lucifer like, but Castiel had become used to ignoring such things. 

“What are you two ladies talking about?” Meg plopped down between them, stealing Castiel’s beer. 

“The nature of man,” Castiel leaned against her. Tiny strands of hair curled at her temple where she had begun to sweat. 

“Ugh,” she laughed, showing all her teeth. 

“Nick met someone.” 

“Who?” Meg demanded. 

“A nice woman,” Nick shrugged. 

“Name.” She tapped her finger against the bottle. 

“Sara.” 

“Occupation?” 

“Accountant.” 

“Address?” 

“Why?” Nick eyes widened. 

“So I can beat the tar out of her if she bruises one of your petals, you delicate flower.” 

They squabbled as Castiel picked up a shining red ball, weighing it in his hands. It sailed from his fingertips towards the pins, obeying only the laws of physics and his skill. Later, back at the apartment he would corner Nick by the bathroom door, 

“You should bring your Sara home for dinner.” 

“Are you my father now?” 

Castiel shrugged and Nick rolled his eyes skyward. 

“Fine, but Meg isn’t allowed to make cannibalism jokes.” 

“I cannot make a promise on her behalf, but I’m sure she will respect your desires.” 

He was sure of no such thing, but Nick seemed to need to hear it. Perhaps this woman would work out. Perhaps she would remove Nick as easily from their lives as a plucked fruit. Castiel wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He brushed his teeth and stared into his own eyes in the mirror. 

Tomorrow, he would go to work and train Nails, perhaps take the teen to lunch again and fill a belly that Castiel suspected was perennially empty. He would wake up beside a being he loved and a toothpaste he had no feelings about whatsoever. He wouldn’t heal anyone or perform a miracle or watch the bioluminescent dances of undersea creatures or cross the world in a breath. These blue eyes would meet him in the mirror instead, this aging face and stubbled cheek. 

Meg came to find him, sliding her arms around his midsection and resting her forehead in the dip between his shoulder blades. 

“Get lost in your head again?” 

He dropped his hands to cover hers. 

“Only a little.” 

They journeyed to the bedroom together, leaving behind toothpaste and bright lights. She kissed him under the cocoon of the blankets and he tasted stolen beer and ketchup. His hands bracketed her hips, drew her close and closer still. Trying to explain himself to her with the rude tools of affection and adoration. 

He thought she understood.


End file.
